


His Agent

by batyalewbel



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It might feel preslash and it can be if you want, they are both so sassy conversations tend to sound flirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was assigned to 007. It was his job to look after him.<br/>Post Skyfall</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this is going. I'm not fully a 00Q fan(I'm reading it though so :/ )...I just think Bond seriously needs a friend and Q would do well for that since there is NOBODY ELSE LEFT.

It had always been his job to watch out for his Double O. There were no guidelines for how of course, so he tended to make his own.

He always had a tracker on the agent but sometimes a cluster of numbers on a computer and a location weren't enough. He needed to assess the situation with his eyes. Sometimes he really didn't need to but he did anyway. Call it curiosity. Of course he knew that he was probably not unlike the stereotype of Big Brother at this point but he comforted himself with the knowledge that his motives were less sinister. And thoughts like that didn't stop him the next time his agent was in over his head.

007 probably never thought about who was lending him a helping hand as he raced through his adventures. He probably never noticed during his car chases that all the lights turned green for him. He probably didn't notice when that automatic door had to stay open for that one extra second, it did. Q's job was to watch out for his 00 and he was the best Quartermaster around for a reason.

He had overseen four 00's in the past. Of course his influence couldn't save them from drowning, or bullets, or poison(Although Q was thinking of having a sensor implanted in each of them with antidotes for the regular poisons and… well…that was still in development). He knew that each agent he had lost had been through no fault of his own. Computer's can't stop bullets or drain water from lungs(Although he was working on an algorithm). So he wasn't guilty. He was not.

One thing he knew for sure was that every 00 came with baggage. One does not come into this kind of employment because their two living parents and happy siblings want them to get a job. M had told him this job was for the damaged and dysfunctional. A lot of sad stories. A lot of orphans.

It's not that Bond was anymore damaged or any worse at hiding it. But after M he could see the way the man walked around MI6. He hid it well, but it was so clearly there. Open and bleeding.

One of his 00's had actually killed himself after a job was done. Trust a 00 to finish the mission first. They always knew their duty.

It was the first day after Bond had gotten back. After the funeral where he stood there, lost amongst the crowd. Q had been there too. He hadn't known her well or for very long and that was his loss. They stood amongst all the bodies, the living and the dead, and watched the box with the flag laid over it as it was lowered into the ground. All the faces stared at the box but Q found his eyes wandering, studying and cataloguing. It was easier than remembering the woman who seemed much larger than the box that now contained her.

As his eyes wandered they found another set of eyes, blue and icy. Bond was not staring at the box either, but rather staring straight ahead; the direct gaze of an agent. Their eyes met and held for a moment. Maybe it was seeing the footage or maybe it was the utter absence of emotion. Maybe it was way he held himself, ramrod straight with hands fisted tight. Q knew something was wrong.

0000000000000000000000000000 000000000000

Q had been there in his own way. Heat signatures, tracking satellites. Once the house started burning they weren't that hard to find. And then by some odd stroke of luck it seemed that a few years back a security camera was installed in that church to catch looters.

Q followed Bond's progress as best as he could. Meanwhile making sure this mission remained covert. If Silva caught the slightest whiff of MI6 backup waiting in the wings the whole plan would backfire catastrophically.

It was times like this that Q almost wished he could be right there in the field. Making sure his gadgets worked and seeing all the things his cameras couldn't. In a place like Skyfall he felt blind. Numbers gave him data but they did not show the situation.

That camera might have been a blessing but Q didn't believe in that kind of thing. If it was a blessing it was a bloody bad one.

He saw the whole thing play out in black and white through a veil of grain. He saw that tiny frail hand come away dark. He saw M collapse in Bond's arms. He saw Bond holding her with shaking shoulders as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He saw the other man come and rest a hand on Bond's shoulder before leaving the church. And he saw Bond sit there and hold her for a long time before he laid her on the ground and walked away.

Of course the moment Q saw that hand, dark with blood, he was calling for a med evac and advising caution. Silva was a pixellated dark spot that didn't move from the floor but he had learned caution was best. Silva had taught him that.

Bond walked to the door of the church and opened it letting in the medical evac team. Q already had his headset on and these men all wore their own mikes He could hear them talking to each other ('all clear' 'man down' etc…)and he could hear Bond faintly in the background

"You're too late."

He could see that one of the men was trying to examine Bond but he was shaking the man off. Q pressed a few buttons and then spoke into his own microphone.

"Excuse me this is straight in from Q branch, would you be so kind as to give your headset to the agent in front of you?" The man on the screen seemed to freeze for a moment before he took the headset off and handed it to the agent. Q wished he could improve the video quality to better assess the situation. His agents face was a mess of pixels.

"007 this is your Quartermaster speaking, now submit to a physical examination otherwise I will order them to drug you." It was so hard to read the man's reaction but Q could swear that he turned and looked right at the security camera. He didn't bother to remove the headset though so Q sat and listened to Bond's unusual silence. The man favored his sarcasm but except for a comment about being 'bloody freezing' he didn't say a word. He just sat there slightly hunched over as the doctor pushed and poked and shined a flashlight in his eyes. Then the examiner took the headset back.

"In case you need to know sir, aside from a lot of scrapes and bruises and some mild hypothermia the agent is fine. However we have a man down."

"Understood."

Of course they didn't yet realize it was M. These people probably didn't even know what M looked like.

There was something he noticed then. A hunch in the shoulders, that stiff straight posture. He saw it again at the funeral. He knew his agent was not 'alright'


	2. Chapter 2

Bond was cleared for duty and his first missions were local. Gun's and bad guys and the usual. Q directed Bond through this mission as usual.

"Go through the door on your left."

"I can't see a door."

"Then you're a twat"

There was no response. Q remembered their first mission and the chatter. Bond had enjoyed getting the last word but apparently not anymore.

At the end there was some fighting close quarters. Punches thrown, guns fired. It sounded bad from where Q sat. When James had gotten the USB with the information, he spoke into the watch on his wrist. He knew Q had inserted a microphone and a small speaker.

"It's done Q"

"All right, report back here to return the equipment."

In his office Q leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

An hour or so later a battered 00 walked into his office. Q took one look at him and raised his eyebrows. The expensive suit was ripped and torn in several places. He had a new bruise growing on his forehead which was pale and bit sweaty and there was blood all over. Q couldn't tell if it was his or another man's.

"Are you alright Bond?" For a moment the question seemed to surprise the man.

"Of course, now about that exploding pen…I may have lost it." Q sighed and nodded. This at least, was typical.

"Okay 007 but I hope you are taking a trip to medical after this." Again there was surprise but it was hidden by a smile. Q knew better than to trust the smile of a 00. Their job was to smile in order to sneak and kill, not to mention the drinking and the sex. Smiling was a way of lying with a 00.

"Of course."

Q also happened to know from his files that Bond loathed doctors. The only time they ever managed to get him seen to was when he came in unconscious. The rest of the time he managed to weasel his way out of it. Q assumed he preferred to go home and nurse his wounds with a bandage and some hard liquor. Of course there were times when that wasn't enough. He remembered that grainy hand, dark with blood. He knew Bond remembered it too…Probably it too well.

"Well good, I'll walk with you to medical, I needed to speak to the doctors about some sleeping gas." James stared at him for a moment. His mouth tightened and his hands clenched.

Q knew how to smile too. He let his lips turn up in an easy grin at the agent.

Another man might try to make excuses but he knew Q was smart enough to see through that the way Q knew Bond was too smart to make excuses. Finally he spoke.

"You know I hate medical."

"I also know dying can be quite an inconvenience," Q told him. Bond made a face and Q sighed.

"Would you consent to me giving you an examination?" He asked and Bond looked almost surprised…and to be honest he had surprised himself.

"You're not a doctor?"

"Exactly. But I did go through the regular medical training like everybody else." Bond nodded and looked around. Q's office did not have glass doors like everywhere else. He had been sequestered off with a proper wooden door which he now shut behind him. Q grabbed the first aid kit from a drawer in his desk and came around his desk to perch on the front of it. He nodded for Bond to sit in the chair in front of the desk. Bond walked over, a little stiffly. It was only when he sat down that he allowed himself to slouch down a little bit. The exhaustion finally bleeding through the cracks.

"Well I can't do very much with you wearing that ragged suit I'm afraid." He told James. The man sighed and slowly began to remove the coat and shirt, his movements were slow. It betrayed the pain.

With the shirt off Q could finally see the full extent of the damage.

His whole midsection was one large bruise. Q took one look at it and then at Bond.

Then he took a penlight and flicked it in front of the man's face watching his pupils dilate. There were assorted cuts that required bandaging so Q started with those. He wetted a cloth with some rubbing alcohol and went to work swabbing and putting on bandages.

"I can't do all of it Bond" he said

"The rest will mend" Bond replied evenly. Q sat back and glared at him for a moment. Then he picked up a pen off his desk and poked James right in the center of the blue and black on his torso. Bond visibly winced.

"That's broken and it needs a bloody X-ray" Q told him. James just glared at him.

"Did you do this with her too?" the question made his face pinch and go hard.

"No, I think she would've drugged me and dragged me in if I did this."

"We can still do that. I've got this room rigged in ways you cannot even imagine," Q stated. Again James just glared.

"So what? Are you a masochist? or do you just enjoy making my life very bloody difficult?" Q asked.

"Maybe both." James said and Q sighed. He looked over the man with his old eyes and scarred body.

"I miss her too you know. I didn't know her as long but she got me this job."

"She'd call that sentimental," James muttered looking at the wall.

"Well maybe so…I saw the video you know." Now James looked at him. Really leveled him with that hard agent gaze. Q fancied that 007 might be able to kill with his eyes. Every other part of him was a killing machine…why not the eyes?

"I saw how…" He trailed off and Bond just kept staring holes into his head. Q sighed.

"I'm very sorry for your loss Mr. Bond now do I have to drug you? or will you go to medical to get X-rayed?" James didn't do anything for a long moment. Didn't speak, didn't move. Finally he got to his feet, again very slowly. He put his shirt and coat back on. Q just sat back and watched, his mouth a thin line.

Bond turned to walk out the door. But he paused and turned to look at Q again. Those eyes looking him up and down, assessing. Then he nodded and was out the door leaving Q behind, uncertain if he had something good or very wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um ok so I don't drink alcoholic beverages...ever. Also I don't go to bars. I googled a few things but please bear with me on any bar details that are terrible.

                Another few missions went by well enough. Then this one mission overseas…It was a rare day off for Q. even he had them. He got a call at 3 AM saying Bond was going into a hostage situation and he had to race to MI6. By the time he got there the other guys had opened fire in a room full of civilians. Q heard the whole thing and found another surveillance camera too.

                Bond did his job and bundled off with the now freed hostages. There was a helicopter waiting for them. He told the helicopter to wait and ran back.

                A little girl had been shot. It was hard to tell from surveillance footage but she couldn’t have been older than six. Q heard the whole exchange

                “I’m here to help ok? I want to take you to a doctor. Nod if you understand” On the footage Q could see the slightest bobbing of her head.

                “Ok, I’m going to pick you up now alright.” Another bobbing of the head. And without further ceremony he picked the girl up and ran out the door. Q could hear her whimpering through the ear piece. Her head must have been resting on his shoulder. But the noises were fading. When they got to the helicopter there were the sounds of fumbling.

                “007 the child is deceased.” Somebody had checked her pulse. He could imagine Bond standing there holding that kid as he shouted a short sharp “ _Fuck!_ ”

                “We can’t carry a corpse right now 007.”

                Another muttered fuck and then more fumbling. He was probably putting her on the ground a short distance from the helicopter.

                “Q, make sure there’s a proper burial detail. And make sure they check outside.” Bond was clipped and Q almost nodded before remembering Bond couldn’t see him.

                “My sympathies Bond, will do…now get on the helicopter before they come back with reinforcements.” It sounded harsh but Q had no better words and he had only stated the facts.

                When Bond returned to MI6 hours later he walked into Q’s office and just dropped the ear piece and gun on the desk. Nothing was broken for once. Q looked at his equipment and then up at Bond who just stared at him. Was his expression naturally cold or did it freeze over time?

               Bond turned and started to walk out the door.

               “Wait.” One word, not shouted, and not a command. A request. James stopped in the doorway with his back to Q. He stared at the man's back as he gathered his thoughts.

               “One moment,” he said. He got up from his desk and pulled his sweater off the back of the chair. Bond now turned to look at him.

               Q managed to get around Bond and out the door.

               “Follow me please,” he said crisply and he took a few steps before Bond’s reply stopped him.

               “Why?” He was direct, an admirable quality in a 00. Q turned to face him.

               “Well I feel I was rather severe with you during the mission, also the mission itself had some rather unfortunate complications so…we are going to a pub.” He stated it firmly and with more assurance than he felt. Q had not been in a pub since he was 12 when his father felt the need to drag him away from his books and his old Macintosh computer.

               Q watched as Bond’s eyebrows climbed his forehead.

               “A pub,” he repeated. Q nodded and to avoid further questioning he began to walk and half hoped James would follow.

               He did.

               Outside Q led Bond past all the shiny sleek cars to an old beat up Honda. Everything about it spoke of being a nice car…ten years ago.

               Again Bond raised his eyebrows but got into the car when Q unlocked it. Once they were both seated he could see those clear blue eyes looking around and taking in the state of his vehicle. Q was not ashamed of his car. It had history and cleaning was boring.

               “If anything is in your way, throw it in the backseat,” he informed Bond who was sitting quietly and just staring at him. Q ignored him and poked at a touchscreen on the dash. It was clearly an addition and probably the newest thing in the car. His fingers briefly flew over the screen and suddenly it was listing nearby pubs.

               “That one,” Bond said pointing at The Elephant and Castle. Q was a little surprised but he nodded his assent.

               “As you say Mr. Bond.”

               The drive passed in silence that was shockingly not uncomfortable. Bond didn’t speak until they had entered the noisy pub.

               “Are you even legal to drink Q?” he asked with the hint of a smirk. Q gave him a look and ignored the question. At the counter he ordered a shot of brandy, from the look Bond gave him this was apparently a surprise. Bond ordered a martini. Once the drinks came they found a booth in a corner where the noise wasn’t too bad.

               “I took you for more of a wine type,” Bond stated after they had both sipped their drinks.

               “And I was under the impression you took your drink by the bottle,” Q replied sharply. James smirked again but it faded.

               “Isn’t there some regulation against this sort of thing?” Bond asked and Q laughed.

               “Since when did you give a damn about regulations?”

               “Fair point.”

               There was a long silence as they both observed the rowdier occupants of the pub. Talking and laughing and drinking. Civilians seemed so boisterous.

               “You know given your history I would’ve preferred taking you elsewhere,” Q started as he swirled the brandy in his glass.

               “I prefer something a little quieter…with better lighting…but unfortunately it would you seem you don’t exactly have many hobbies.” Q spoke casually as he stared into his glass. He didn’t see Bond raise an eyebrow.

               “And to think we could have gone mini golfing” he said dryly. Q looked up at him a little surprised.

               “Should I be offended that you think drinking is my only hobby?” Bond asked and it was Q’s turn to smirk.

               “Well there’s nobody to shoot, gambling is generally an activity for one and I’m not sleeping with you so I thought it was safe to omit your other happy pursuits.” James actually laughed at that. A short sharp burst of laughter that still didn’t touch his eyes. It faded quickly.

Then they were surrounded by their own silence again.

               “I just thought…well…If you ever need a…” what word to use? Friend? James Bond doesn’t keep friends well. Any friends he had are dead now or out to kill him. And again he feels those eyes boring into him. Q meets the gaze and for a moment wonders if the expression in those eyes is a little less severe. Maybe a little softer. Like all his sharp edges aren’t quite so deadly. 

                Whatever that looks was, it was gone in a moment. Bond downed the rest of his martini and stood up. For a second Q thought he was going to walk away but he paused right beside Q and laid a hand lightly on his shoulder.

               "Not many people are queuing up to be in my corner and for good reason.” His voice was soft almost inaudible over the noise of the room. Q looked up at him and found he could not decode that expression.

               “But thanks for the offer.” He walked out the door before Q could think of a response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO THAT WAS THE HARDEST THREE PAGES EVER. I wrote like three different versions. I don't know why James likes to dramatically exit at the end of my chapters...what a drama queen...let me know what you think if you feel like it. I have a vague idea for another chapter so that might happen eventually.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter was a hard one. I will say right now that I havent the faintest idea how MI6 runs and it makes more sense to me that Q would do his stuff in his office but in the movie he's out there with the big fancy screen and like fifty other people...My logic of why and how people at MI6 do things is probably crap but I hope nobody is reading for that. (Also spies and their missions...um they go places and run around...again things I don't know about :/ )

                “Do you miss her?”

                The question rang through Q’s mind often. He would see 007 going through mission after mission in that insane way of his. Taking unnecessary risks at every turn. His edges were becoming sharper, harsher. Q wondered how often he thought of Skyfall and of her. But after months of a slightly more cordial relationship with Bond the question just slipped out.

                Bond came to his office to be briefed on some new ‘toys’ he would be getting for his next mission. It was relaxed enough; even if Bond always broke their gadgets, he certainly enjoyed getting them. His eyes would spark just a little as he handled them.

                Q was explaining a piece of tech but his mind wandered.

                “Press that button here to activate it. Do you miss her?” The question popped out of his mouth and lay there like a dead thing on the table. Bond just stared at him. Q’s face turned red but he met the man’s gaze. He could imagine all the good will they had built up in the past few months just shriveled up and died. He hoped this wouldn’t affect the mission but they were professionals so it would never come to that. All of this ran through his mind in a matter of seconds as those frozen eyes just stared at him in the most inscrutable way.

                Finally Bond stood up without a word and left the room. Q could only lay his head on the desk and feel very bloody stupid.

                But Q was right. It didn’t affect the mission.

                A week or so passed and 007 was back in London again. When Bond was off duty Q often got loaned around to other agents on missions. He was the best in the Q branch after all.

                004 was on a big one and Q was assisting. This time he was in the main room using the big screen with several others at their computers as back up. The last time this much fuss was made, was during that mission. Skyfall.

                Extra people were hanging around to watch like that they had at that time. If there was news they wanted to know it. Good or bad. He wondered if 007 was around to watch but he was too busy to check.

                But now 004 was almost out. Q was leading him away from the men chasing him. Directing him through city streets and alleyways in Moscow. They could hear bullets being fired and 004 firing back. It was going well and he was just a few miles from a safe house.

                “Just turn left right here and run straight on please.” Q informed him.

                “I’m just trying to shake these—” a shot rang out and the voice died off. Q sat up in his seat.

                “004? 004 what’s your status?” His hand squeezed the end of his desk. His knuckles went white. Over the intercom they could only hear some gasping. The room was deadly quiet as everybody waited. Q shook his head; sadly he was familiar with this. He stared dully at 004’s vitals on the screen but he already knew. All those wild ridges on the screen flatted out soon enough and Q turned on his heel and left the room. Somebody else could call the med evac even though it was pointless. Protocols must be followed.

                He walked blindly down the halls not sure where he was going. He ended up in the locker room. He sat down with a hard thump and leaned forward into his hands. His fingers ran through his hair further tousling it. Distantly he noted the sounds of someone beating a punching bag.

                He didn’t cry any more. After the first few times he stopped crying. He hated himself a little for that too. Somebody ought to mourn them.

                He took his hands off of his head and noted with dull interest that they were shaking. That was new, he supposed.

                Q saw the man in the doorway but he chose to ignore him, Bond must have been in the room. Q hadn’t been paying attention to spectators but Bond would show up at a time like that. Just in time to see him fail. Bond just stared at him for a long moment and didn’t say a word.

                “What? No wit for the occasion? No remarks?” Q asked. His voice sounded a little rougher, like somebody tried to scrape it away. Bond still said nothing. But after a moment he came and sat on the hard wooden bench next to Q. He clasped his fingers together resting them in his lap as he stared straight ahead.

                “You know my favorite thing about M was that there was never any bullshit.” He spoke softly and still didn’t look over at the younger man. Q stared at him a little incredulous.

                “She never bothered overmuch with the concern and the caring because it wasn’t necessary. She understood the 00’s were just a means to an end. We’re tools, not unlike the shiny little gadgets your lot likes to produce. We have our uses and our design flaws…” His gaze seemed distant.

                “You see in the end we are just machines that serve a purpose. The new M will figure this out eventually. Then he won’t bother with crap like asking how we are.” Q studied the man before he too turned and faced forward and let the words sink in.

                “When M said something it always mattered and she always meant it…I miss that.” Q wondered why on Earth Bond suddenly felt the need to divulge but at the same time it made perfect sense. He could almost understand.

                “You should always remember that we did not sign up for a long and happy life here, Q.” Bond’s voice had gone quiet and he turned to look at Q.

                “And I know you know full well this was out of your hands.” He wasn’t smiling and Q wasn’t either. Q's hands were still shaking a little but after this he would go back into his office and go back to work. Q nodded to Bond’s words and Bond nodded back. The agent was the first to stand but he lingered a moment looking down at the younger man. He reached down and hesitated before lightly resting two fingers on Q’s arm. A feather light touch. Q looked up and Bond cocked his head towards the door.

                Q nodded looking exhausted, but he stood up and they walked out the door together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more of these. Your thoughts are appreciated ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

               Finally there was an inquiry about Skyfall. It was bound to happen. M died and orders were _technically_ ignored. Although Mallory took the fall for that and said he had given those orders for them to run off like they did. But naturally…eventually an investigation was going to happen. Bureaucracy took its sweet time though.

                Q wasn’t much bothered by the thing. He just did the tech and so nobody was terribly concerned with him. He had been asked a series of questions by the two MI6 suits investigating. The bureaucrat types were often smarmy and irritating but these men just wanted to get their work done and move on. Q could respect that. Their session was brief.

That was all well and fine but then they wanted to go back to Skyfall.

They wanted Bond to go back.

They wanted him to walk them through the events of that night.

After that conversation had taken place Bond had apparently managed to leave the room without slamming the door. Then he ended up in Q’s office. He did slam that door a little too loudly behind him and then proceeded to lean against it staring fiercely at the wall behind Q’s head. Q for his part had witnessed one or two of these…for lack of a better term…tantrums. Or at least his agent’s equivalent to a tantrum. He decided to proceed as if everything was normal.

                “Hello Bond, would you like to sit down?” Bond met his gaze for a moment and then looked away again. Q could see his jaw tighten.

                “There’s an inquiry about M,” The words were soft and neutral but squeezed past gritted teeth.

                “I know. I had to answer a few questions about it,” Q stated. Bond’s eyes flicked to his gaze and away again.

                “They want me to go to Skyfall,” finally the words were said and no more were needed. Q knew exactly why they were asking. And he had a pretty good notion of why Bond was…less than pleased. Finally having said it Bond sighed and came to sit in the chair in front of Q’s desk. He slumped into and made a face at Q.

                Q was trying to formulate some kind of a reasonable response. Something helpful. Something that the agent could take with him on this trip. Something useful.

                “I could tag along…?” It was a statement that became a question and Q immediately regretted it. It seemed beyond ridiculous. Q was good with computers. He understood people well enough…he was good at reading them. But in person, in a bad situation he felt his wisdom and usefulness were lacking. That night at the bar had been proof enough of that.

                Although Bond surprised him. He didn’t laugh or make any disparaging remark. He just stared at the younger man. Those hard eyes taking in details and sizing him up. He was actually considering Q’s offer.

                “Is there a legitimate reason for you to come?” Q raised his eyebrows and tried not to look too surprised.

                “There is a tech conference in Glasgow this weekend that I’ve been meaning to see.” Q murmured thoughtfully and Bond nodded.

                “Alright then. Best let M know. We leave the day after tomorrow.” With that Bond got up and left leaving a surprised Q behind.

                The plane ride was as awful as ever. Q could never ignore the inherent dangers of getting into a pressurized metal tube while it shot through the sky. If Bond noticed that Q was gripping the armrests during the entire flight he chose to ignore it. Q was grateful for that. His phobia was an irritation and an embarrassment. He wondered if Bond noticed and was looking the other way in some attempt to give him privacy. He might have imagined that.

                Once they got off the plane Q breathed a little easier. And it might have been his imagination, but Bond didn’t.

                Bond only spoke when they asked him a question. What road did you drive on? Did anything happen during the drive? Did M say anything? Bond’s answers were quick and terse. Q wondered if he was trying to get away with as many monosyllabic answers as possible.

                For his part, once he just muttered that the Quartermaster was tagging along the Croup and Vandemar paid him little mind. He sat quietly during the drive. When they reached the charred remains of the castle Q felt his jaw drop a little. Photos had not done the scene justice. He never ceased to be amazed at the sheer amount of destruction one 00 could wreak.

                Bond was stiff and to the point as he walked the Croup, Vandemar, and Q through the house. A trap here shot nails everywhere, there’s a nail in the wall.  Croup and Vandemar inspected the nail still embedded in a piece of charred wall with interest. It was half melted and hard to see amongst the blackened ashes.

                He walked them through the rubble and eventually to the tunnel that M and his groundskeeper had escaped through and where he soon followed. He offered to show them the caves but Croup and Vandemar wrinkled their noses in distaste. Even Q was a little uncomfortable at the idea of the dark tunnel that could cave in at any moment.

 So they went to the car and drove the mile or so to the church. Bond didn’t even have to direct them since it was visible from afar. Although as they drove he did point at a frozen lake as it passed and muttered,

                “Fought him there.” The Croup nodded and Vandemar made a note on their clipboard. Q hadn’t said much and was beginning to feel rather useless during this excursion. For his part Bond just stared out the window.

When they reached the church everybody got out of the car and headed for the door. Q noticed the headstones but didn’t say a word. Bond walked by them with his chin up, but he walked close enough so that his hand brushed over the top of the headstones.

                Croup and Vandemar were already in the church and examining the scene. They talked to each other and made notes oblivious to the world. Q stepped inside and felt the chill mildew of the air. He glanced back and saw Bond stop at the threshold. His gaze seemed distant and Q could see those jaw muscles tighten.

                “James,” Q murmured and that gaze finally went to him.

                “Come on James,” Q motioned with his hand and forced himself to not look away. That gaze was like something fractured. All cracks and sharp edges. Q wondered if for a moment he was seeing through the cracks. Were there emotions beneath the surface, hidden like burning embers in coal? Was it fear? Or grief? Or nothing at all? Still he didn’t look away.

                “Come on James.” Repeated words and the hand outstretched and motioning.

                The other man clenched that jaw and the gaze turned steely. He didn’t take the outstretched hand as he walked by Q. But he gently brushed a hand on the younger man’s arm as he went by. Then he went to Croup and Vandemar and answered the rest of their questions firmly and in as few words as possible.

                James did not look at him again. His expression went hard again. The cracks had sealed.

                James didn’t even glance at him until they were on the plane. The moment Q stepped inside it he could feel his breathing quicken. He jammed his hands into his pockets where they became white knuckled fists unseen. Bond wordlessly let him take the seat at the window. The plane engines started and Q stiffened in his seat. Bond made some kind of a noise and dug something out of his pocket.

                It was the standard MI6 earpiece that he used on missions.

                “So explain how this thing works again? Because I think it’s shit.” Bond threw the words out carelessly. He sounded bored. But his expression was something different. The plane started moving and Q inhaled sharply and gripped the armrest.

                “Q, I genuinely want to know what on earth you think is so great about this thing?”

                “You know full well it’s not useless, I designed it.” Q answered through gritted teeth. His face went a little red. He wished James would leave him alone, but he knew exactly what he was trying to do.

                “Then explain why this isn’t a piece of shit,” James insisted, his expression was still unreadable.

                “Well the inner casing is made from titanium so if somebody decides to try and break your head this won’t shatter in your ear drum.” Q spoke slowly as he tried to measure his breathing. He was trying to sound normal. Bond listened attentively as he ran through each little detail of the ear piece. For a brief moment he did manage to forget about the plane moving them across the runway.

                “And the wiring is…” his breath left him as the plane sped up and began to lift off the tarmac.

                “Yes what about the wiring,” Bond prompted. Q stared at him for a moment before letting out a slow and shaky sigh.

                “Is this some sort of a thank you for earlier? Because that would be unnecessary,” he muttered. Bond just gave him a long hard look.

                “You were saying about the wiring.”

                So Q explained every inch of the ear piece until they were up in the air. When he ran out of things to discuss about the ear piece Bond took off the watch Q had modified and simply pointed to it. As Q explained the technology his breathing evened out a little. Although he was still terrified when the plane began its descent he found it was indeed easier to focus on the circuits and wires of Bond’s cell phone. He explained it all at length and Bond listened to every word.

                When the plane landed Q was the first one out of the door. He let out a deep breath and leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees. He jumped a little when a voice said in his ear,

                “Now we’re even.” Q straightened up to look Bond in the eye.

                “Fair enough,” he said and Bond gave him half a smile before turning and walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so first off can you tell I don’t know shit about electronics? That was all totally pulled out of my ass. Also yeah I really can’t tell if they got out of character in this one. I suppose since this is all my headcanon now this might just be their continuing character development. I like the idea that Bond would still be kind of rude when he is trying to be nice. Also seriously Bond really just loves to exit at the end of chapters and Q loves to watch him leave. I don’t know why the fuck that keeps happening.
> 
> Also this is just a bit about me and my headcanons. A lot of this story now is probably more James helping Q than vise versa. I think that’s how James would get close to somebody (M, Camille, Vesper, he generally did a bit of saving or tried to with each of them). I think James likes to take care of people and its his only way of showing affection. Thoughts? Reviews? Seriously your feedback makes me very happy if you have the time for it^_^


	6. Chapter 6

It was late at night and MI6 was practically empty. Q was still busy though, he was lost in the codes and numbers. He was writing a new program that would work in tandem with the motion sensor he was building. The whole thing was going to be brilliant.

He had the motion sensor on in the other room to gather data. It let out a little beep when anybody walked by. At this point it was just the security guard who walked by every hour or so. Q had been tracking the hours passing by the beep of that man passing his motion sensor.

Finally he leaned back from his computer and sighed. His cell phone read 4:17 AM. He frowned at the digital display. The last beep came around 2:30. It was irregular for the security guard to be absent so long. So Q got up to investigate. As he stepped around his desk he wondered if the man had just fallen asleep. MI6 headquarters were at a secret location and even the best guard could get complacent.

For a moment Q considered this as he stood in the doorway to his office. On a whim he went back and grabbed his cell phone. With that in the pocket of his jeans he set off out of Q branch.

It was dark but for a few rare pools of yellow where a few hall lights had been left on. Q had to admit that walking through the halls of MI6 at night was a little eerie. His footsteps echoed against the hard shiny floor. He wondered if the lights being off had something to do with saving electricity or if the guard liked the dark.

When he got to the end of the hall he heard a noise. He opened his mouth to call out but something stopped him. Instead he followed the sounds. Rustling of papers, objects being shifted. The creak of a drawer opening. He turned a corner and found himself in the doorway of the filing room. MI6 kept records too. A lot of it was blacked out but still. This was a room of top secret information and there were ways of filling in those blanks. Q knew that from personal experience.

But the problem wasn't the room. It was the man in the room. He was rummaging and through drawers. Q took a silent step back and found himself almost tripping on the guard.

The guard lay dead on the floor with a hole in his chest. How had Q not heard the shot? He looked back and saw that on top of a nearby cabinet was the gun with a silencer. All that distance away maybe the noise had carried and Q hadnt even noticed? Now he was trapped between two bodies. The dead one and the live one.

He slowly stepped backwards trying to step over the dead man. He needed to get out of sight. He needed to set off the alarms. But the floor was slick with blood. Q put his foot down and it skidded. He fumbled trying to right himself. The tiniest noise came of the rubber sole scraping tile. When Q regained his balance there was a gun aimed at him. He barely had time to register this when the sound came.

It wasn't quite like the explosive sound Q had heard in films. It sounded like something sharp slicing the air. An arrow or a knife. Like a balloon being deflated in a second. It filled his ears and then the bullet came. It hit him in the abdomen. Slightly left of center.

For once Q's brain seemed to be behind on the events of the moment. After the bullet came the pain. He let out a cry and his legs folded under him. His breathing came in gasps. Fire, needles, knives, a fist being punched into him over and over again. Words failed to describe the sensation. But what about the man?

He looked up to see the man racing down the hallway. The alarms. He had to set off the alarms. His hand was now as wet with red as the floor. But he still had his cell phone and Q had already connected it into the MI6 mainframe ages ago.

A few buttons set off a silent alarm. M would be woken up along with a few others. Reinforcements would be called. Also there was the matter of all the exits now being sealed. People could enter but they could not exit. Q had added that feature.

The pain seemed to be subsiding to a raging dull ache. Q knew he was going into shock. That was fortunate for the time being. The cogs were ticking away a little slower in his brain. But it occurred to him now that he just locked himself in this building with an armed man. He half limped, half crawled into the filing room and shut the door. This door had a lock but it was not impenetrable. Soon enough the man would realize he could not escape. Then he would come back wanting Q to fix it. Q was always fixing things…

With that done he stared at the phone in his hand for a moment. Then he began to dial the number he technically shouldn't even have. But of course he did. It occurred to him that he probably should have done this first…

…hindsight…

There was a high pitched ringing. Once, twice…On the third ring he answered.

"There had better be a good reason for this." Bond sounded annoyed. He seemed to already know who it was.

"James…" Q muttered.

"Q" There was a pause as Q gathered his breath, it was escaping him heavy and labored. Before he even spoke Bond was in his ear again.

"Something's wrong." It wasn't a question.

"I think you ought to pop on over here James…Man tried to steal some files and…well I suppose I've become a casualty…" the words came out like a sigh.

"Stay on the line." There was noise from Bond's end. Hurried motions, key items grabbed.

"I've activated the silent alarm. It seals all the doors so no one can leave the building." He had to make sure James had all the information. Agents needed to be informed.

"How long ago?"

"A few minutes," even in his own ears he sounded resigned.

"You locked yourself away somewhere?" Even his questions sounded like statements. He was moving now. His breath coming faster through the phone.

"The filing room. I'm not a simpleton Bond." A chuckle filtered through the speaker. There was the sounds of keys and a car.

"That's good, just stay on the line Q." Now that the important information was out Q found it easier to let his mind wander. The whole thing was very detached. But the pain kept him grounded, as did the voice in his ear. He wondered if Bond had felt like this went that mission went awry. When he had 'died.'

"You know I thought you would have given up your name. I was surprised to realize Bond is your given name?" Those tombstones at Skyfall…Andrew Bond…Bond was such a memorable name Q had assumed it was a chosen name. There was a brief moment of silence after his statement.

"Name changing is often more to separate the personal and professional lives. I have no significant others or family that needs protecting." Bond stated and Q let out a small hmmm.

"So what else? Come on Q keep talking." So much force in his voice. Q wondered how many traffic laws Bond was breaking right now to get here.

"Do I need any access code to get inside?" Bond prompted him. That voice that wouldn't allow him to shut his eyes. He was feeling very tired.

"No…the usual procedure. Entering is easy. The alarm only hinders the exiting…I have another alarm that does both but…I thought this would be simpler."

"Yes good…I'm almost there Q." Finally Q could hear noise outside of the phone. Footsteps.

"I think he's coming back James."

"I'll be right there." And then silence. The footsteps kept approaching.

"Hurry," his voice died a little

There was no answer as the footsteps got louder. Q stared at the phone which was suddenly quiet. It seemed ominous. Finally a fear crept in.

"James?" The sound was pitiful. A rusty creak.

Then there came a that noise and a small hole in the door. The man was shooting at the door around the lock. Q lay there staring at the door. Another bullet fired. And a third and a fourth. Q took a shaky breath. That door would not take much more.

But a different noise came next. Grunts and impacts of fists against flesh. Q knew a fight from hearing so many through that ear piece. Metal clattered against the tile followed by more punching and kicking. Small noises when a target was hit. Q could do nothing but sit there and wait. Finally the gun fired again. That sharp sound. Q stared at the door with wide eyes.

There was a bang of something striking the door. And then again and again. Wood splintered and the door swung open to reveal 007 had kicked it open.

In a moment their eyes met and then James was on his knees beside him. He put his hands over the wound and pressed down. Q felt the pain but he was too exhausted now to cry out. He just stared up at Bond who for once did not seem so composed. Is this what M saw before she died?

"I called for help. Just stay awake." He spoke fast through gritted teeth. He was pressing down hard on Q's stomach. Q remembered vaguely about putting pressure on the wound.

"Don't order me around." He mumbled and Bond breathed out something that could have been a laugh but it wasn't.

"Q…You look like shit." He muttered, a limp attempt at humor but Q let out a small chuckle and then winced. Bond seemed to see that. He was moving to try and make Q comfortable. He sat down on the ground and pulled Q's head into his lap while still keeping one hand pressed on the wound.

"I did always prefer Quentin…" Q murmured absently. Another not laugh from Bond.

"It's a good name." Q nodded but there was a fog advancing over his mind. He wanted to sink down and let it wash over him. His eyes were sliding shut.

"Damn it Q stop it!" James barked out. His voice rough and harsh.

"Eyes on me now…where the fuck are the doctors?" he asked the air as he gave Q's shoulder a little shake. Everything felt so heavy but that voice was so insistent. He managed to crack an eye open and stare at the agent leaning over him.

"Sorry," Q mumbled.

"They will be here soon so just stay…" James swallowed and looked away. Those eyes didn't seem so much like ice now. But even that couldn't keep the fog away. It still advanced. The edges of his vision were already going grey. He was too tired to fight it anymore. He let the weight pull him down. But the voice followed him. Sharper…louder.

"Hey… _Hey!_ "

But Q was under. Beyond hearing, beyond responding. James stared down at the younger man. At that moment he could hear voices from down the hallway.

"Over here!" He shouted, the words left his throat jagged.

The men came racing in the room and James laid Q on the floor and stepped back. He knew enough to not get in the way. They filled the room and James stepped back. Mallory was there. His face was a mask but there was a distant sympathy as he met the agent's gaze. James looked away and stared at Q…Quentin. From where he stood it looked like Q was sleeping, if the doctors were ignored.

"Will he stay here or will he get sent to a hospital?" Bond asked Mallory

"He'll be here" Mallory responded quietly. Bond nodded and turned to go.

"I'll let you know." Mallory spoke to his back. Bond only nodded before getting out of there as quick as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I apologize for the fact that I can't write an action scene. No matter how hard I try. I can only rationalize this by saying that at least for THIS scene with Q as the focus well...he is so intellectual I could see him overthinking every second of it like this.
> 
> Also I totally broke my limited third person to write that last bit I know...I've stuck pretty close to Q's head throughout and I just switched it right there for conveniance sake. I tried not to get too into Bond's head so at least it just came off like suddenly Omniscent third instead of suddenly new POV. Blaaargh sorry guys I did my best. The follow up will be better I hope


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I wrote the ending and then I forgot to update!

When Q finally woke up he immediately regretted it. His abdomen was a giant pulsing ache that seemed to spread through his whole body. But he was still half asleep. He tried to move and get comfortable and in the process set off a massive starburst of pain. A strangled noise escaped his lips and his eyes opened to stare at a blurry ceiling.

It took a few moments for the memories to come trickling back in. The man in the file room. The bullet. Eyes that melted and bloody hands. That persistent voice.

He turned his head to the side and saw his glasses on the night stand. Clumsily he reached over and put them on to further examine the room. White walls all around but through the doorway he could see long glass hallways. He was in the MI6 medical facilities. A nurse came in and took one look at him before calmly walking back out. A minute or so later the nurse returned.

"Glad to see you're up and running sir," she murmured as she checked his IV and vitals.

"Are you comfortable? I can give you more painkillers if needed." Her tone was crisp and professional. The perfect bedside manner for MI6. Q considered her offer. There was a lot of pain but his brain already felt like it was wrapped in a sponge and he did not want to increase that sensation. He shook his head.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked her

"3 days sir," with that she nodded, turned on her heel, and left the room.

Q sat there for several minutes taking stock of how bad he felt. The conclusion was that it could be worse. Then Bond strolled through the doorway.

"Not dead are we?" James asked dryly.

"Afraid not, sorry," Q replied. James stepped over to one of the uncomfortable looking plastic chairs against the wall. He lazily dragged it over to beside the bed and sat in it.

Once seated he just stared at Q. This was the James that Q was used to seeing. Smooth, steady, and hard. When James spoke it was with no emotion.

"Just for the record, if you ever knowingly walk into a dangerous situation like that again I will kill you," there was no joke on his face. Q found it odd since the threat was so contradictory but the intent was plain.

He simply met the man's gaze and inclined his head. There was a long silence. James no longer met his gaze and instead preferred to examine the IV tubing. Q sighed and aimed for humor

"You know after all that fuss I was surprised to not find you by my bedside when I woke up," it didn't quite ring true but it was close enough. The corner of Bond's mouth curled.

"Waiting by an unconscious man's bedside is an utterly useless pastime. The waking one suffers acute boredom and the unconscious one doesn't know the difference." Q chuckled a little and found it made him wince. Of course James noticed. Without hesitation he reached over and pressed the button for the nurse, Q sighed.

"This is unnecessary James," He murmured. Again those eyes hit him with full force.

"Q, you were shot and you nearly bled out. You need rest and if you are in pain you need medication. That is not up for discussion," his tone did not leave any other option.

At that moment the nurse came back in.

"What do you need sir?" she asked.

"Give him something for the pain and something to help him sleep."

Neither of them spoke as she injected something into his IV.

"That should take effect in a couple of minutes," She said before leaving them alone again. Once she was gone Q looked at James.

"I dreamt about him." James didn't need to ask who.

"You won't anymore. Dreaming about the dead is a useless pastime," he murmured standing up out of the chair.

"You would know," Q mumbled back. He could feel the drug starting to work. Things were feeling softer, warmer. This time James did chuckle and it reached his eyes.

"I would, now go to sleep," he said. Q nodded a little and let the chemicals drag his eyelids closed. He lingered for a few moments longer, barely waking. He felt a hand double check his pulse, just for certainties sake. Then the hand retreated and after a short pause, a quick and gentle brush of lips on his forehead and something slid beneath his pillow. Then the drug pulled him into soft dreamless sleep.

Later, when Q woke up, it was night and there were more guards posted around the infirmary. But once he was less groggy he felt something under his pillow. He had a vague memory of something being slid under it before he fell aleep. He fumbled around until his hands touched smooth plastic.

He pulled out his Iphone which James must have left for him. He smiled a little and began to toy with it. Casually he checked on the surveillance in MI6. He easily accessed the server where they stored old footage. He felt a little twinge of curiosity and he went back to that night. It was the 6th…

On the video he saw that James had come and sat in that same awful plastic chair by his bed four times during those three days. Each time he stayed for an hour at least. Q smiled to himself.

A useless pastime indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know from experience that Q would totally not be this lucid being all drugged up in a hospital and I don't know any knockout drug that takes that perfectly specific amount of time. Either it would take like an hour or it would take a minute BUT WHATEVER STORY ARTISTIC LICENSE BLAAAARGH. Who needs realism in fanfiction right?
> 
> Also there's a bonus chapter because I felt like it. Basically I don't know where its set chronologically but it's a part of this in that its these characters the way I've been writing them…so yeah :/


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unabashed sick fic 00Q friendship style

When Q woke up that morning his whole head felt heavy. It was the like the weight of all those late nights drinking nothing but Earl Grey had come to sit on his skull. All those hours sat and pounded at his temples.

His throat felt like it had been stuffed with wool and something worse. Raw, itchy, and just awful. He laid there in bed taking stock of himself. His back was hurting…what on Earth? he wasn't an old man why did his knees ache? And his jaw?

He pulled the sheets off because he was too hot. Without them he shivered. Frosty fingers ran up and down his spine.

Bloody hell, he murmured to himself. He didn't even need to bother with the thermometer. But he also knew he had to go to a meeting and he had to do some very important work on the MI6 security grid. 007 was in the country but other agents often needed an extra hand and he was the best.

Also he never missed a day of work. It was a little thing but Q was rather proud of it. He was not some teenage slacker like so many assumed and he worked hard to prove it to everybody every day. It didn't help that even in Q branch most of his coworkers were at least ten years his senior and they didn't appreciate the 'youngster' getting his own office.

So he dragged himself to work. He knew he was in no shape to drive so he took the tube. He realized he must have looked awful when somebody gave him their seat on the tube. He sat gratefully and dozed leaning his head against the window. Then when he arrived at his stop he had to walk through their whole damned car park just to reach MI6. His body was thoroughly displeased by that turn of events.

Once he entered the MI6 building files were handed to him and orders were given. If people noticed how ill he was they didn't seem to mind. First Q assisted 005 through a crowded market in Turkey after some bad man or another. He wasn't that focused and when the shots rang out in his ear he flinched and wondered if his own head might explode. After that it was coding and he just tried to focus on the familiar numbers and algorithms. Then he was going through files for Bonds upcoming missions.

Eventually Q had to get up and go speak to M about something.

It was a bit of a torture and he found himself leaning on the walls. At some point he sensed the presence of the icy gaze even before the man appeared in his field of vision.

"Rough night?" Bond asked.

"Bugger off" Q grumbled before continuing on his way. He felt those eyes follow him until he turned a corner. After the meeting he went back to his office and realized he should eat something. He had thrown some peanut butter on toast this morning. It was his usual lunch. Now it looked sticky and awful. But even sick people need to eat something. He forces himself to chew and swallow the sandwhich, bite by painful bite.

Eventually it was a reasonable time to leave. His stomach felt like it had been kicked and his vision was beginning to swim.

He managed to coax his body up and slowly made his way through the halls. That sandwich was sitting badly in his stomach but Q ignored it. It felt like there was something stuck high in his throat. He forced himself to keep moving. He did not notice that he had begun to sweat.

Finally he was out the door and into the car park. A few steps forward and the floor seemed to move under him. His legs melted beneath him and he fell to his knees feeling the bile rise in his throat.

Finally his lunch made an encore appearance as his body forced the offending material out. His whole body was shaking as he managed to crawl away and lean against the tire of the nearest car. He rested his back against the hard rubber and shut his eyes. It occurred to him he should try to get back up.

The sound of a door opening slipped by unnoticed but he recognized those footsteps anywhere. He heard rather than saw the man come to a stop in front of him. He looked to see blue eyes bending down to eye level. Bond looked him up and down, calculating. He reached out and gently rested a hand on Q's forehead. Q shut his eyes again, enjoying the feel of something cool on his skin.

Bond made a small noise and stood up.

"Wait here." A stupid statement to Q's mind since obviously he wasn't going anywhere. Bond simply nodded down at him and jogged out of Q's field of vision. A minute or so passed before the car came speeding around the corner and stopped in front of him.

Bond got out of the car and went to Q. Without a word he reached down a scooped up the younger man. At this point Q was too tired to try and analyze the situation or think of anything to say. He just let Bond carry him to the car. Bond got the door open and managed to gently fold Q into the passenger's seat. He even reached over to get the seat belt but Q batted his hand away. He wasn't five, that much at least he was capable of doing. Bond smirked a little before he got into the driver's seat and turned to Q.

"So you have two options here Q. I can take you to a hospital or something of that sort or I can take you home." At the sound of the word hospital Q looked up at him with wide eyes. Sterile white walls and the smell of sickness. Bond saw and nodded a little.

"I will remind you of this the next time you try and drag me to medical." Bond muttered to him and Q could only sigh and lean against the window. After that Bond drove on without a word. Q fell asleep resting against the window. Soon enough a hand on his shoulder woke him up and helped him out of the car.

"Think you can walk?" he asked and Q nodded. Bond put Q's arm over his shoulder to steady him. It wasn't until they were in the door that Q realized this wasn't his apartment. Bond led him to the elevator which took them to the third floor. On the ride up Q wobbled and Bond put an arm around his waist to steady him. Once they got inside Bond went straight to the couch and laid him down on it. Then he went back and turned on a lamp or two and strode off out of sight. Q saw a light go on in another room. He took a glance around and was not surprised to see how sparsely furnished the room was. Although the small flat screen television was a surprise. He had never imagined Bond as a man who sat and watched telly. From the other room he heard some clattering around. cabinets opening and closing. Bond eventually came back in with a glass of water and three Tylenol which he handed to Q who obediently took them. Then Bond went off again and came back with a thermometer. It was the kind Q's mom used to use. He felt like a child staring down at the end of it sitting outside of his mouth as he waited for it to beep. When it did Bond grabbed it and looked at the number.

"I'm afraid you probably caught this from me. I picked it up from somewhere last week and had to hole up here for a few days…your at 39 Celsius by the way." He spoke in a matter-of-fact way. Q remembered a day last week when Bond came in looking like crap. Q had said he was hung over. Now Q nodded and leaned back on the couch. He was asleep in moments.

Hours later he woke up and found he had a blanket draped over him and a mug of tea on the table that had gone cold.

James was asleep in the love seat which was barely big enough to fit all of him comfortably. Q stared at the man who actually seemed much younger when he slept. As if he sensed the other man's gaze the agent cracked one eye open.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. They just sat there and felt the silence. It was an easy one.

Finally Q opened his mouth to speak. To say something…maybe thank you, or demand that they never speak of this again. But no words came out and somehow Q thought Bond might have understood. He simply nodded at Q and muttered

"Go back to sleep."

And he did.


End file.
